


Lavender

by cutepoison, humanveil



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, Dom/sub Undertones, Escort Service, M/M, Messy, Rough Oral Sex, rent boy will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 02:50:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9103243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutepoison/pseuds/cutepoison, https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: Hannibal had been very particular about today’s order, had outlined exactly what he’d wanted, and had paid the price to get it.He isn't disappointed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is a half rp/half written 'normally' fic from a while ago. i hope ya'll like it!!

Hannibal follows the owner of the club through the dimmed hallways, eyes trailing over the familiar décor. He has only been here on a few occasions, mostly to amuse himself, though there had been times where he’d no agenda other than easy pleasure.

Today is a mix of both.

The establishment is a finer one, known for its impeccable service and upscale whores. Hannibal has no qualms contributing to the obscene amount of money it racked in yearly, not when they catered to his needs so flawlessly.

Stopping outside of a wide door, the owner turns to him, a polite smile on his face. “Make yourself comfortable, Doctor Lecter, and he’ll be right with you.”

Hannibal takes the words with a nod and a murmured ‘thank you’, entering the room and waiting for the door to shut behind him before moving. The room itself is the same as it always has been, filled with dark colours and sleek furniture; undoubtedly soundproof, just like all the other non-specialist ones.

He had been very particular about today’s order, had outlined exactly what he’d wanted, and had paid the price to get it.  And a high price it had been. His... taste wasn’t necessarily uncommon, but the standard he expected was often hard to come by.

Surveying the room once more, he looks between the bed and the lounge before moving to the latter and taking his seat. Crossing one leg over the other, he trains his gaze on the door at the side of the room, and waits.

*

As soon as Will receives the invoice about what he’s to do that night, he packs up duffle bag, filling it with the appropriate clothes and stuffing some makeup inside. As an afterthought, he adds a small bottle of blood-red nail polish.

He arrives at the club a few hours early and walks to his small dressing room, thoroughly showering before tossing his damp hair up into a towel. He works his way through the makeup slowly, starting with a tint to his brows, and then a thin, sultry line of black liner on his lids, mascara lengthening his already-long lashes. Will works just a hint of blush onto his cheeks, and then carefully begins to paint his lips. The shade’s a reddish burgundy colour that plumps his mouth beautifully.

Makeup wasn’t his favourite thing to do, but, looking at himself in the mirror, Will can’t deny how good it makes him look.  When he finishes his face, Will decides to do his nails.  He paints them messily, cleaning up the edges with q-tips and polish remover.

Once ready, he pulls on a black robe and walks down the long hallway to his client. The fabric covers up the only thing he has on; lavender, lace booty shorts. They hug his ass nicely, and pair wonderfully with his heels of the same colour.

Out of respect, Will knocks on the door twice before stepping inside. He immediately sees his client, and forces a warm smile to his face as he shuts and locks the door, leaving them inside alone.

“Good evening,” he says, walking over to the older man, sauntering easily to where he was sitting and standing in front of him.

From his spot on the couch, Hannibal stares. The boy before him is beautiful, undoubtedly so. His gaze trails over the slim figure, lingering on the pretty face, the delicate yet strong features.  He coughs once to clear his throat, the sound low and rough, and speaks. “Hello.”

Subconsciously, his tongue darts out, running across his bottom lip and leaving a slight sheen in the dim lighting.  He can already feel the familiar tug of arousal growing in the pit of his stomach, can feel the hunger there.

The boy is exactly what he wanted.

Perhaps tonight will be more about pleasure, and less about amusement.

“What should I call you?” he asks. It may have been a little blunt, but he liked to know upfront.

“Hannibal,” is his client’s quiet response, and Will has to stop himself from raising an eyebrow at him. Most didn’t use first names, not here.

“And you are?”

“Will,” Will says, smiling. “But you’re welcome to call me anything you like.” Will loosens the tie on his robe as he speaks, letting it hang there, knowing his client will take the lead and go at a pace he likes.

Will’s used to being stared at, but there’s something in this man’s eyes that makes his skin crawl in the best way possible. They look almost black in the darkened room, endless pits of nothingness that lure Will in.

The boy’s gaze flicks down to Hannibal’s mouth as a pink tongue comes into view, wetting oddly-shaped lips that draw Will’s attention. He wonders how good they’ll feel on his skin. This is Will’s job, and he works hard at what he does, but sometimes he likes to enjoy himself, too.

Hell, nobody could do the job if they didn’t.

He has a feeling he’ll enjoy himself with Hannibal; the way he’s drinking Will in… Will can’t help but bite his lower lip, white teeth contrasting against the dusty rose of his lipstick.

“Will,” Hannibal repeats, rolling the name across his tongue, tasting it. He likes the feel, the sound, the possibilities it creates.

He looks up at the boy, lips tilting in the barest hint of a smile, and reaches a hand out slowly. His fingers curl around the fabric of the robe, hand placing the slightest pressure against Will’s hip.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Hannibal murmurs, tugging the fabric softly and watching as it falls from its place, exposing the boy’s figure, inch by inch, as it drops to the floor and pools around the heeled feet.

Hannibal continues to stare at Will for a moment, taking his time as he examines the boy. He looks over the lean torso, the pads of his fingers brushing the smooth skin of Will’s hip while doing so. His eyes settle on the underwear, gaze appreciative as he looks over the lace, the poorly concealed cock.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, nudging Will and prompting the boy to step forward, closer to him.

Hannibal can feel his arousal growing, can feel his body starting to become impatient. He wants to touch Will, to devour him. He’s here for himself, but he can’t help but wonder how the boy would react to his advances.

Sighing softly, he tightens his hold on Will’s waist and pulls the boy into his lap, wrapping an arm around the slim torso to steady him. It’s a swift motion, practiced, and leaves neither of them with much time to think. A light touch is all it takes to part Will’s legs, to have them rest on either side of Hannibal’s lap, straddling him.

Like this, Hannibal can feel Will’s arousal, knows the boy can feel his, too, despite it being restrained beneath dark, checked suit pants.

“Is this okay?” he asks, head titled to the side as he watches Will’s face, waiting for an answer.

Albeit a bit stunned at the sudden movement, Will nods. He places his hands on Hannibal’s shoulders, fingers smoothing lightly over his suit’s jacket, until the tips meet with warm, tan skin above his collar, seeking out the steady pulse there.

“Perfect,” he says, smiling. Usually his clients weren’t so… polite.

He can feel Hannibal’s thick cock against his own groin, layers of fabric still separating them. It’s obvious Hannibal is intent on dragging this out, (as he should, he paid quite a lot of money for the night), but Will can’t help rolling his hips forward, experimentally.

He half-moans, half-sighs as he continues on with his hips, giving Hannibal a slow, sensual lap dance. It was more grinding than anything else but it was still _good._ Their eyes meet, and Will presses closer, hands eventually clasping at the back of Hannibal’s neck.

Hannibal bites back a groan as Will moves, pleased at each noise that leaves the boy’s mouth, the breathy moans going straight to his cock. He can see Will’s face clearly like this, can see the dusting of foundation, the long, mascara coated lashes, the details of his lips, coloured in a deep red.

It’s incredibly arousing, much more than he’d ever intended it to be.

He lets his hands ghost over Will’s back, touch still gentle, and dips his head so his face rests in the crook of Will’s neck. Hannibal brushes his nose against the ditch of Will’s collarbone, inhaling the sweet scent of Will’s perfume, and mouthing at the skin. He bites it gently, barely hard enough to leave a mark. He doesn’t want to be too rough. Not just yet.

His hands make their way down Will’s back, gliding against soft skin before resting on the lace clad ass. Hannibal lets his fingers trace the lacy pattern, his hands palming the firm cheeks as Will moves against him. It pushes their crotches closer together, increasing the friction, and Hannibal sighs softly against Will’s shoulder, savouring the feeling.

He wants it to last, wants to spend more time in Will’s company. There’s is something about him that Hannibal can’t quite place, something intriguing. The boy is beautiful, yes, but Hannibal gets a... _vibe_ from him, something that tells him there’s more to Will than his looks.

He continues to palm Will’s ass, delighting in the response of it. His fingers dip beneath the lace, rubbing softly and teasing the cleft, but going no further.

Hannibal moves with Will, using the pressure of his hands to control their pace, gradually speeding up their movements. It’s enough to satisfy his arousal momentarily, but not to put him on edge. He has other plans for that.

They continue for some time, bodies moving together as if it had always been their purpose; both their arousal growing in time. Will almost, _almost_ , forgets Hannibal’s a client.

“What did you have planned?” he asks, tilting his head to look at him.

Hannibal smirks at him, eyes gleaming. “Why don’t you get on your knees, darling,” he prompts, removing his hands from Will’s body.

Will slips go the floor easily enough, adjusting his position until he's as comfortable as he can possibly be. He watches as Hannibal stands from the seat, slim hands moving to the opening of his trousers.

Normally, Will wasn't the biggest fan of oral sex. He mostly did it for the money - the act coming at quite the price, even more so when unprotected. Now, though, he feels an odd sense of excitement; anticipation.

Hannibal unzips his pants, pushing the expensive fabric down his thighs. Will isn't sure how he should move, but the decision is made for him as Hannibal's hand settles on the back of his skull, fingers gripping onto the mess of curls there. Gently, the older man guides Will's mouth towards him; watching as his erection slips past red painted lips without issue.

It is a beautiful site, to see Will like this. The boy seems to glow in the room's gentle lighting. Hannibal doesn't dare look away.

Their rhythm starts slowly. Will sucks the head into his mouth, tonguing the slit as Hannibal rocks lightly, fingernails scratching at his scalp softly. Hannibal takes his time building their pace, dragging his pleasure out.

Eventually, both his hands take hold of Will's head; keeping him in place as Hannibal quickens their actions. It gets rougher, harsher, and Will finds he loves every minute of it. Even as he gags, saliva slipping down his chin and smearing the lipstick he'd spent so long perfecting, he enjoys it.

Hannibal's presence, the aura of him, seems to set his body aflame.

Will's eyes water as Hannibal fucks his mouth, and he can only imagine what he looks like as small droplets drip from his lashes and down his cheeks. His makeup must be ruined; smeared across his face. He can feel his cheeks burning red from the lack of air, can feel the spit pooling at the sides of his mouth and dribbling down his chin. He doesn’t think it would be appealing, yet, somehow, Hannibal seems to like it.

Above him, Hannibal murmurs sweet nothings that make his stomach clench, and Will can feel his own cock aching; begging for him to touch. He doesn’t, though. Knows that he can’t.

Hannibal’s scarce moans become more frequent, his movements growing more erratic, and Will guesses that he’s close. His guess is confirmed moments later, when Hannibal’s hand tugs at his hair; offering him the chance to pull away.

Will doesn’t pull away. Instead, he hums, looking up to stare at Hannibal through shining blue eyes.

It sends Hannibal over the edge; the older man coming with a grunt. Will sucks him through it, swallowing the come that coats his tongue. He hardly ever did that – definitely never at work – but he’d wanted to. The breathy moan he gets in response makes it worthwhile.

Hannibal smiles at him as he steps back. Will breathes deeply, catching his breath, and Hannibal’s hands pet his hair; wipe away the mess from his chin.

His hands slip down, under Will’s shoulders, and he helps the smaller man up. Will stumbles, not used to the heels. He leans against Hannibal; forehead falling to the other man’s still clothed shoulder.

He’s surprised when Hannibal’s hand reaches down, back under the lacy underwear he has on. He’s thankful though, a long moan falling from his lips as Hannibal’s deft fingers wrap around his shaft. His body as ready as it is, it only takes a few strokes for him to come; eyes squeezing shut as he spills into Hannibal’s hand.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, once his body has calmed down.

Hannibal nods at him, bending to retrieve the gown Will had worn at first. He wraps the fabric around Will’s shoulders, fingers rubbing against the skin comfortingly before fixing his own outfit. Their time is almost up, Will knows, and he finds he doesn’t want the other man to leave. Not just yet.

As if able to read his thoughts, Hannibal smiles softly. “Perhaps there will be a next time,” he says, and he means it. There was something about Will that made him want to know the other man.

“You know who to ask for,” Will responds, turning to watch the other man leave.

Surprisingly, he really did hope Hannibal returned.


End file.
